Chapter Sixty-Three: The Envoy

The next day, after organizing the recent events, Artis set out with his retinue to inspect each of the villages. In the past, these villages had belonged to various lords, so it was necessary to visit each one, to diminish the former lords’ influence and establish the new rule. At the same time, making use of the soldiers who had taken part in the war, Artis distributed the land parcel by parcel, and introduced new laws to replace the tangled and arbitrary statutes previously set by the lords.

The new regulations, in addition to reaffirming most of the former laws, abolished much of the chaotic taxation, leaving only land and commercial taxes. Artis also relocated some impoverished families willing to move, founding new settlements in suitable locations. In this way, the land could be fully utilized, and key areas would benefit from the establishment of villages, further perfecting the region’s organization.

With the sudden emergence of a great number of priests under his command, Artis decreed that every village and town must have a church. In the rural churches, the presiding priest was to be at least a White Robe, while towns required a Red Robe at minimum, and cities a Yellow Robe, with the rank depending on the city’s size. For now, given the surplus of priests, even the smallest village’s priest was at least a Red Robe.

After this series of measures, within several weeks—while spring had not yet faded—Artis himself led the people to till the land. With the arrival of priests and a steady stream of support from the north, there was no shortage of seeds or supplies for the time being, so these could be loaned or distributed to the newly landed or tenant peasants.

Finally, seizing this rare opportunity, Artis formally established the military system. Every five men formed a squad led by a squad leader; ten men a section led by a section chief; one hundred men a company led by a company captain. These were the basic officers. Above them, five hundred formed a battalion commanded by a major, and one thousand a brigade led by a general; above that stood the legion commander, whose authority varied with the size of his unit. These were the mid-to-high-ranking officers. Besides the principal officers, there were also positions such as messengers, standard-bearers, quartermasters, garrison chiefs, and magistrates, each with their distinct roles.

With the military structure in place, Artis appointed Nadir and Carter as legion commanders, each commanding five thousand men.

Thus, just over ten days later, several hundred people were busily working on an open plain.

“Your Majesty, at this pace, the roads should be largely repaired within a few months,” Carter’s rough voice called out on the spot. He was dressed in light, well-fitted leather armor, standing before Artis as he spoke.

Artis smiled. “Earlier, I sent you to persuade those tribes to surrender. How did it go?”

“It went very well!” Carter nodded. “With the call of the gods and the priests, many tribes in the wilds near Cecil have agreed to your terms and pledged obedience. However, they’re unwilling to leave their homelands; some tribes even rejected our proposals outright and drove our messengers away.”

“That’s to be expected,” Artis replied with understanding. “Those unwilling to leave can have villages or towns established near their homes, and their chiefs and elders can be appointed as village heads or sheriffs.”

“As for those who refused…” Artis paused in thought. “How goes recruitment for your legion?”

“Now that so many tribes have joined us, we’ve selected excellent warriors to fill our ranks. But with so many new recruits, our combat effectiveness has clearly declined,” Carter replied, glancing at Artis, then hesitated. “Highness, do you wish me to lead troops to suppress those tribes?”

“Is there a difficulty?” Artis asked, puzzled.

“Many of those tribes are followers of the god of nature; some even have priests among them. If you order their extermination, our own priests may have doubts,” Carter said hesitantly, his reluctance clear. In truth, not only the priests, but Carter himself felt repulsed at the thought of attacking the faithful of his own god.

“Carter!” Artis’s gentle voice rang out from ahead. Instantly, Carter felt as if a being of overwhelming might had shaken him to his core; a divine pressure pressed into his very soul, draining the color from his face. He instinctively took a step back, unable to speak further, as though his own divine power had been stripped away.

Seeing this, Artis sighed softly. “Send more envoys to persuade them. If that still fails, then dispatch troops to suppress them,” he said without hesitation.

“Yes!” This time, Carter did not hesitate, and obeyed at once.

Watching him go, Artis shook his head in mild exasperation.

As Carter’s figure receded into the distance, a young man approached from outside.

“Gerald, what is it?” Seeing the newcomer, Artis smiled.

This was someone Artis had recently discovered. When Artis issued an open call for officials—not restricting the selection to the royal family or great nobles—a number of talented individuals sought him out, many from cadet branches of other noble families or the descendants of impoverished nobility. Gerald was one of them.

“Your Majesty, the delegation from the Duchy of Barlow has arrived. They hope to ransom the captured nobles,” Gerald said respectfully, his golden life-thread shining above his brow.

“Let them wait in the hall,” Artis replied. Having seized a large number of nobles from his enemies, Artis had little use for them beyond adding a dozen manuals of battle techniques and fighting qi to his collection, so letting them go was no loss.

A while later, in a large hall, Artis received the delegation.

The envoy appeared quite young, exuding a calm and steady air as he stood before the many guards, entirely unruffled by their wary stares. At this moment, Artis entered from the side.

Instantly, the envoy stiffened, feeling as if a terrifying presence had fixed its gaze upon him, exerting immense pressure. He forced himself to turn, barely suppressing the urge to flee, bowing his head and not daring to meet Artis’s eyes.

Artis strode forward in silence and took his seat. As soon as he sat down, the envoy felt the oppressive danger vanish, his knees nearly buckling as he realized his shirt was soaked with sweat.

“What a fearsome man!” he thought, trembling.

Seeing his state, Artis smiled faintly. “What is your name?”

“Baird Bank…” The envoy’s voice was hoarse as he gazed at the strikingly handsome Artis.

“The Bank family—you are of the royal bloodline?” Artis asked.

“Yes,” Baird replied, nodding.

“How interesting…” Artis mused, amused. From what he had learned, the royal family and nobility of Barlow were at daggers drawn, yet the royal house had still sent someone to ransom the nobles. Still, Artis did not care; whoever came, as long as their purpose was the same, it was all the same to him.

“Your country attacked me not long ago, and now you come hoping to ransom your people. Are you not afraid I will have you killed?” he said coolly to Baird.

At his words, Bazel, now Artis’s chief bodyguard, drew his sword, and a chorus of blades rang out as the guards leveled their swords at Baird, ready to strike at Artis’s command.

Surrounded by this chilling display, Baird was, paradoxically, relieved; the earlier suffocating pressure was gone. He met Artis’s gaze unflinchingly. “Previously, with the kingdom of Cecil still standing, as allies we were obliged to support them. Now, with their kingdom utterly destroyed, we naturally recognize your rule. Sending an envoy is not just for ransom, but to congratulate Your Majesty on your coronation.”

As he spoke, a pale blue thread of fate flickered above his head, radiating waves of faint blue fortune that subtly influenced those nearby.

Artis said nothing, merely glancing at Bazel. With his signal, the guards sheathed their swords, and the stifling tension evaporated from the room.